


7 Kisses and Goodbye

by writellings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Christmas Gift Exchange, Fluff, M/M, Through the Years, iwaoi - Freeform, minimally and only at the end, oiiwa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 13:29:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5541761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writellings/pseuds/writellings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is twenty five when his knee gives way under his weight and the world comes crashing down on him. That evening, Hajime’s fingers are dancing across Tooru’s face, wiping his tears away as he tries to process the fact that he will never play volleyball again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	7 Kisses and Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a Christmas Gift Exchange on Tumblr. Hope you like it!  
> (every number stands for a period in their life and a kiss they shared during that time)

_i._

Tooru is thirteen and his fingers are shaking inside his palm– not from the cold of the falling snow or from the freezing air around him – but because of childish nervousness that creeps into his every bone, every fiber of his being.

He looks down at his feet, where the snow is already catching beneath his boots; he takes in his surroundings – the hole on the side of the school wall that’s been there since before his first year, the skeleton trees that branch out into the sky, the fog of his breath as it leaves his mouth. But he doesn’t look at Hajime.

And Hajime doesn’t look at him either.

They stand across from each other, both hands tucked neatly into pockets and feet shuffling about uncomfortably. Tooru wonders, only briefly, why they are even there in the first place. It’s one thing for people to go behind the school after class – Tooru knows, even though it isn’t something anyone speaks about, that some of his classmates have a habit of coming to this exact spot sometimes to light cigarettes, as though they were adults, as though they thought it would somehow make them grow up faster.

It’s a completely other thing, though, for two boys to wander off behind the walls where no prying eyes can see them, so they could hold each other’s hand, and steal each other’s first kiss. It was Hajime’s idea, really, to come here; to do this.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” he had asked, two days before their meet up. When Tooru shook his head uncomfortably, thinking that he should be ashamed of it, Hajime looked him in the eye. “Neither have I,” he said. He then continued to walk ahead, like nothing happened, like he didn’t just make Tooru’s heart burn like fire and turn to ash, all in a single second. “Did you know that Katsumi-kun has? Eito-kun has, too.”

Tooru looked at him, then, trying desperately to figure out the meaning behind his words. Then, Hajime said. “We should try it, too.”

Now they’re standing in the falling snow, where their peers go to smoke and kiss and play hooky, waiting for the other to make the first move. And Hajime does just that. He inches closer, grabbing Tooru’s hand, and he leans in close to his face. Tooru feels his heart rise into his throat, feels his stomach drop, and feels his mouth fall open to say ‘stop’, but Hajime’s lips are already on his, hot and cold all at once.

They don’t move for a while, just stand there, breathing into each other’s mouths. Their lips aren’t moving and Tooru thinks it’s horrible, and he wants Hajime to move away because he doesn’t want to be the first to do it. It seems like a lifetime before he feels Hajime’s lips unglue from his own, and he gasps out in surprise. They don’t look at each other, and they don’t say anything for a long time. When he looks up, Hajime is looking at him like Tooru is the worst thing to have ever happened to him.

After that, Tooru only kisses girls for a long time.

 

 

_ii._

At nineteen, at his second year of university, Tooru sees Hajime for the first time since graduation.  

They meet by accident, in a coffee shop where they used to go during their high school years. At first they don’t recognize each other; Hajime has changed so much in the past two years, and admittedly, so has Tooru. But one thing Tooru will never forget is the curve of Hajime’s mouth, and the little beauty mark on the skin of his upper lip. Even if he’s taller now, and even if he changed his hair and clothes, Tooru would still recognize him just by that.

He walks over to the table the other male is sitting at alone, hesitant to say anything, and asks. “Is this seat taken?” Hajime doesn’t lift his eyes from his phone for a second.

“Uh, no,” he replies after a moment, and looks up. His eyes go blank, and then a thousand things happen all at once; Hajime’s look becomes unfocused with memories, he reaches out, spills his coffee, and hangs himself around Tooru’s neck. “Tooru?” he asks, surprised, prepared to back away at any second if he is mistaken. But he couldn’t be.

“It’s been a long time, Iwa-chan,” Tooru feels something unfamiliar go down his skin as the old nickname falls from his lips. “I missed you so much,” he says, embracing his friend tighter. They stand in the middle of the coffee shop, unmoving for long moments, just hugging each other, before Hajime pulls away and smacks Tooru across the head.

“Thanks for keeping in touch,” he says,

“I could say the same to you,” Tooru replies, rubbing at the back of his neck. “You look…really different,” he comments.

He doesn’t miss the spark in Hajime’s eyes as he stares him down. “You look hot,” he says without pause. Tooru’s cheeks go red and hot in a second.

“Iwa-chan!” he gasps and Hajime laughs, and it feels like there was never any distance between them. Tooru sits down, maybe a little bit too close to Hajime’s side, and props his chin up with his palm. “What have you been up to?” he asks. It feels natural to talk again, almost like they didn’t stop at all, and Tooru can almost pretend that Hajime had called him every weekend to see how he was doing; he can almost pretend that the rift between them isn’t a mile wide.

“School, mostly,” Hajime replies. His voice still sounds the same, still tastes the same in Tooru’s mouth – honey and cider, and crunching leaves in late Fall. “You’re still playing volleyball, huh?”

“Of course. But I know you already knew that,” Tooru eyes his friend carefully, trying to decipher what it is that’s bothering him.

“I, uh… I quit. Wanted to focus more on school,” Hajime hides his face like he’s ashamed, and Tooru reaches for his hand.

“I know,” he says when Hajime doesn’t look up. “You don’t have to feel guilty about it, it’s not like I expected everyone on the team to continue after high school. It’s always been my dream; it doesn’t have to be yours.”

Then, Hajime looks at him – for a long time. They stop speaking, instead enjoying each other’s company for the first time in a long while. It feels - to Tooru - like all the missed memories they could have had together, and all the laugh and smiles and tears they could have shared, fall into place in that one moment.

When they’re asked what they want to drink, they say “Hot chocolate,” in unison and laugh. They really haven’t changed that much after all.

“So how’s it going?” Hajime asks, when two steaming cups of melted chocolate are placed between them. “With volleyball, I mean.”

“I’m pretty sure we have a chance at winning Nationals,” Tooru says. “Our team is quite strong, so far, especially defense vise.” He looks at Hajime’s face, searching his eyes for a reaction. He seems…happy? Glad? Tooru can’t find the right word, but he definitely isn’t unsatisfied. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

Maybe he’s imagining it, but Hajime seems to be sitting closer than a few moments ago, and his eyes are darker and his lips more defined and – and Tooru can’t help but stare.

“That’s really good. I’m glad,” Hajime murmurs, unfocused. They lean in at the same time, lips meeting halfway. And Hajime kisses him, in the coffee shop that used to be their favorite place, by the window, as the snow continues to fall heavily outside.

 

_  
iii._

He is twenty five when his knee gives way under his weight and the world comes crashing down on him.

He registers nothing but the sharp pain and the loud sound that follows it – he can’t tell whether it’s him screaming or someone else. He feels hands around his shoulders, pulling him up and away from the court.

Later, Hajime comes to his side, breathy and flushed from the cold and the running, and grabs his hand. “Tooru,” he calls, but Tooru can’t hear him over his heartbeat. “Hey, Tooru, look at me. It’s fine, it’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs.

Only it’s not, and it never will be.

That evening, Hajime’s fingers are dancing across Tooru’s face, wiping his tears away as he tries to process the fact that he will never play volleyball again. He can feel Hajime’s breath next to his face, whispering comfort and remorse into his ear, but he can’t see him over the dampness in his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Hajime says, again, for the thousandth time that day. And again Tooru wants to tell him to stop, because it’s _not_ okay. “You’re fine,”

Hajime captures Tooru’s lips; the curves of their mouths recognize each other so effortlessly after numberless kisses. He kisses him with all the gentleness he can muster, swallowing his sobs and tears and brushing his hair away.

Tooru doesn’t kiss him back.

 

  _iv._

On Tooru’s twenty ninth birthday, Hajime takes him to their old school to watch the current volleyball game.

They walk along the all too familiar path, echoing the faded shadows of their own footsteps. Hajime has their fingers intertwined, and they walk in silence, navigating their way through the thick snow. “I’m really excited about this,” Hajime looks up at Tooru, when the silence stops being comfortable, when it has already become suffocating.

Tooru feels a wave of nostalgia wash over him as he spots the old building. “Me too,” he says. They walk into the gym slowly, ravishing in the warmth of the inside; all around them there are unfamiliar faces, both younger and older than them. Tooru feels Hajime pull on his hand, and they push their way through the crowd until they find themselves standing on the very top of the bleachers, overlooking the entire room. Tooru sighs a little and smiles; he remembers like it were yesterday that they stood on that very same floor. Now, some other people are wearing their numbers on their backs, and hitting the ball they used to hit. He wishes they could go back to those days, if only just for a moment, if only just to tell their younger selves that they would be alright.

Somewhere in the second half of the game, Tooru’s knee begins to ache, reminding him of just how long it’s been since he last played, and how he will never-

When their team scores the winning point, they both clap and cheer and pretend not to cry, and Hajime nudges Tooru’s arm with his shoulder. Long after everyone else is gone, they stay, walking alongside the gym floor with their hands together and their shoulders millimeters apart. They talk about childhood and early adulthood, and they reenact their teen years by serving and spiking balls over the net. They don’t stop until they’re breathless from laughter; when they lay side-to-side on the wooden floor, Hajime says:

“This was fun.” And Tooru laughs, again, and sits up. He looks at Hajime, and sees that the other man has also changed his position; he is kneeling down in front of Tooru, with something glimmering in his eyes. And then, in the middle of the floor where they spent their teenage years, he says:

“Oikawa…” he starts, nervous. “You drive me crazy, in more ways than I ever thought possible, and you piss me off so much, and we always – _always_ fight and bicker and disagree and drive each other mad, but – somewhere along the way, I don’t even know when, I started to love that; I started to love _you.”_

Tooru just listens, speechless, because Hajime is pulling out a little black box from his pocket and – _fuck._

“And I want to continue bickering for the rest of our lives,” Hajime says, opening the little box. “Tooru, will you marry me?”

Tooru doesn’t know how much time passed since they started kissing, but when they exit the school, it’s already dark outside, and Tooru’s finger is heavy with a diamond ring.

 

_v._

Everything around him is white and silver and then more white.

Oikawa looks around, trying to find a familiar face in the crowd of strangers. Hajime spots him first, and comes to his side. When Tooru blinks, his husband already has an arm around his waist and is pulling him to his chest.

“You okay there, babe?” Hajime asks and places a small kiss to the side of Tooru’s forehead.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a fuckload of people,” he laughs. “I didn’t know we had this many acquaintances,” he comments.

Hajime sighs. “It’s mostly my mom’s relatives,” he says. “I told her not to invite them.” The grumble is low in Hajime’s chest, and Tooru laughs as he turns toward him.

“It’s fine, Iwa-chan,” he says. “Just a little bit more people than I was expecting.”

“You’re still gonna call me that?” Hajime huffs. “We’re not kids anymore, you know. I think we’re officially grown up now,” he points at the golden rings around their fingers and smirks.

Tooru cups his chin gently. “You’ll always be my Iwa-chan.” He says, before pushing their lips together. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tooru hears clapping and cheering and something like words of congratulation, but he doesn’t care. Not now; not when he has Hajime’s attention like this, all to himself.

 

_vi._

When Tooru looks back onto his life, he realizes he and Hajime have become old geezers.

They still fight and bicker, and Tooru teases Hajime about his arthritis and the wrinkles on his face – even though he doesn’t see them at all; every curve and every dip of Hajime’s skin maps out their life together. The little wrinkles around his eyes are every laugh they shared, and every gift they gave each other. The small frown lines across his forehead are every fight, every worried glance when Toooru was in pain, every _I’m sorry_ and _I love you._ And all those creases encompassing his mouth are every kiss, and all those nights spent beneath the sheets, whispering sweet nothings into Tooru’s ear.

When he looks back onto his life with Hajime, Tooru wonders how in the hell they made it this far.

It’s been fifty years, and still, they love each other like they did on that very first day. He turns onto his hip and watches Hajime’s chest go up and down with every breath. They still kiss, even though Hajime says it’s gross, and even though he says Tooru isn’t as attractive as he used to be, he still kisses him. They still make love, sometimes, when Tooru’s knee isn’t hurting too bad, and when Hajime isn’t too tired from the day of early rising and doing nothing.

He sometimes wonders what tires him out so much, but then again, they’re both – _old._ He hates to think it, but life has gone by, and well, maybe Hajime is just tired from that alone.

He leans down and kisses Hajime’s cheek, nuzzling him awake. One of Hajime’s eyes goes open – they look so cynical, now, and yet still so beautiful. “Good morning,” Tooru whispers. All he gets in return is a soft grunt. “Is that any way to treat me on our anniversary?” he pouts. He still does it, even know, and Hajime is still annoyed with it – and he still loves it.

“It’s our anniversary?” Hajime mumbles into his pillow; Tooru smacks his shoulder lightly.

“Yes, you stupid fuck,” he answers half-heartedly. He can’t be mad at Hajime, not even when he’s pretending to forget. “So get your face out of there and kiss me good morning.”

Hajime raises his head slowly. “Oh. You’re not joking?” he asks, but there’s a smile on his lips and laughter in his voice, and he leans in to kiss Tooru on the lips. “Hmm,” he hums. “Happy fiftieth, I guess. Shit.” He says after a moment. “We’re fucking _old._ ”

Tooru laughs into Hajime’s ear. “I still love you, though. Even if you have that old people smell.”

“You’re old, too, you know.” Hajime says, and he kisses Tooru again. “Can’t believe I’m kissing you, it’s gross. You’re a grandpa.”

At that, Tooru laughs aloud, letting the sound fill the room and the space between them. “I love you, Iwa-chan,” he says, kissing his husband one more time.

 

 

_vii. (goodbye)_

  
Everything around him is black and white and then more black.

Oikawa looks around, trying to find a familiar face in the crowd of strangers, only this time, there is none. The only face he sees is Hajime’s, and Hajime isn’t there to find him and come put his an around his waist. Hajime isn’t there to tell him there’s more people here than he had expected.

Tooru feels a lump in his throat, but he swallows around it. He promised himself he wouldn’t cry, not here, because Hajime always said he was an ugly crier – so he wouldn’t cry in front of him.

He walks slowly up to the shrine where Hajime is. He looks down, looks at his face, and the tears want to escape him again. He had been wondering lately, why Hajime was always so tired, why he didn’t have the strength to make love anymore or even do simple chores around the house. He had thought – back then – that it was just life running him down. Now, he knows it was the cancer. Now, he knows that Hajime was fighting to hold on, but couldn’t.

He leans down, examining the wrinkles on Hajime’s face – he looks peaceful, asleep, with his eyes closed and his mouth unmoving and his hands, neatly tucked into each other on his chest. He leans down and kisses Hajime’s lips – long gone cold – for what he knows is the last time.

“Can’t believe I’m kissing you. It’s gross,” he whispers, and his tears start coming down after all. He wants to stop them from falling, wants to keep himself steady, but he fell apart already and there’s no going back from it now.

“I still love you, though. I’ll always love you, Iwa-chan.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and constructive criticism is always appreciated!!! <3


End file.
